Tuesday, February 7, 2012

There Is Enough

This guest post comes to use from the phenomenal Sarah McColl at Pink of Perfection - one of my all time favorite blogs. She writes about life, food and a million other wonderful things. Go there and add her to your Google Reader. Like, now.

Tuesday night a friend and I went to a panel on writing. We were
wrapped in scarves, and had just finished eating soup and sandwiches.
The evening felt so collegiate, as we carried our trays in the bright
lighting of a cafeteria-like restaurant and ventured out into the cool
night in our tweed blazers to attend a lecture. We were in good moods.

A writing teacher of mine was speaking on the panel, and the evening
was organized by a woman my teacher thought I ought next to take a class
with. The room was packed, and to complete that fall feeling of being
at the big game, we sat on bleachers in the back of the college
bookstore. The writer in charge was a high-octane, fast-talking,
take-no-prisoners MC, unapologetically cutting off authors who droned on
a little long. “We’ve got a lot to cover, so I’ll just summarize your
points,” she interjected.

As each author talked––about stalking agents in bars or soliciting
quotes from Ian Frazier––I found myself growing more and more antsy and
irritated. I was hugely annoyed by everyone earnestly taking notes about
how to publish a bestseller. When the question and answer period was
over and people started queuing up for coffee and cookies, I just wanted
to flee to the nearest bar.

My friend is a writer, too. She may not realize that I consider her
my spiritual guru. (“You’re more spiritually evolved,” I said, “cause
you’ve had more lives.” “More lives, like, reincarnation?”
“Yeah. You’re, like, of the air,” I explained, “and I’m still of the
earth.” This is what I sound like, by the by, after half a Brooklyn
lager.) But despite being on a higher plane, she shared my post-panel
insecurity. To succeed, it seemed, we had to press the pedal to the
metal: be out networking, sending out query letters, pitching stories,
tirelessly taking workshops, going for it, full-throttle, determined and
unshakable. It all made me want to pull the covers over my head.
Besides, how could we elbow our way in, I thought, when there are so
many people out there doing it already? The world doesn’t need another
Mary Cantwell or M.F.K. Fisher. There’s no room for us.

And then my friend told me about her dad. How for many years he felt
competitive with a colleague who was, for all intents and purposes, a
genius. He spoke a billion languages and could play any instrument he
picked up, and my friend’s father was always trying to keep up. And then
one day watching this guy be all geniusy, my friend’s dad was struck
with a bolt of enlightenment, and he just started laughing. He suddenly
felt the relief of letting his colleague reap the spoils of his success
without feeling personally threatened. And so, when my friend one day
was feeling insecure about something herself––someone at school, let’s
say––her dad gave her a talk. “Someone will always be smarter than you.
And that’s okay. There’s space for you, too.”

It reminded me of the advice I grew up with. Someone will always have
more than you: more beauty, more money, more talent, more smarts. But
someone will always have less.

The and that’s okay part was what I needed to hear. There’s
room for all of us. There’s enough success, money, and love to go
around. There is no scarcity, really, unless we choose to look at life
through that lens. One person’s success doesn’t take away from our own;
someone else’s triumph doesn’t mean less triumph for us. There’s enough
for everybody.

Don’t be jealous, especially secretly. That’s the worst
kind. If someone writes something great, it’s just more clarity in the
world for all of us. Don’t make writers, “other,” different from you:
“They are good and I am bad.” Don’t create that dichotomy. It makes it
hard to become good if you create that duality. The opposite, of course,
is also true: if you say, “I am great and they aren’t,” then you become
proud, unable to grow as a writer or hear criticism of your work. Just:
“They are good and I am good.” That statement gives a lot of space.
“They have been at it longer, and I can walk their path for a while and
learn from them.”

In yogic philosophy, there’s the concept of mudita:
“a sympathetic or vicarious joy, the pleasure that comes from
delighting in other people’s well-being rather than begrudging it.” More
is more, and I can stand to hear it again: “If someone writes something
great, it’s just more clarity in the world for all of us.”

I’ve always been afraid of running out of money, things to say, or ideas to write about. But writing a daily column for Yahoo!
has taught me an important lesson about scarcity. There is no shortage
of ideas. In fact, the practice of continually making yourself open to
inspiration, ushers in only more. Creativity begets more
creativity, love begets more love. And perhaps the same is true: success
for some begets success for others. There is enough, for all of us.

PRESS

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